


Mom I'd Like to Kiss will never have a catchy acronym and that's a shame

by sapphicsnorlax



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M, Unpopular Pairing July
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicsnorlax/pseuds/sapphicsnorlax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s the first moment you realize that Griffon is at once the nicest person you’ve met in Austin and the last you’d ever want to cross. You don’t know which of those facts is more attractive."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mom I'd Like to Kiss will never have a catchy acronym and that's a shame

When you first meet Gavin Free’s mom, you immediately recognize the sensation of a crush smacking you hard across the face.

Obviously you know Griffon isn’t really his mom; nobody that smart, that artistic, and that hot could be a blood relative to Gavin “The Nose” “Headlight Fluid” Free. She’s his legal guardian through some process you’re not sure about because the only thoughts of legality going through your head are reminders that, though you’re just shy of 18 years old, you are safely above the age of consent.

That’s something you feel should be easier to work into casual conversation.

Your first sight of Griffon is 2 months after you start what can loosely be called a friendship with Gavin. As soon as the two of you step off the bus he takes you out to the back of the house where a woman is at work. Her blonde hair is up in a pair of pigtails and her tank top shows off her heavily-inked arms as they easily guide the chainsaw in her hands through a solid block of wood. You’re pretty sure a chainsaw should bring to mind bad horror movies and shitty sleepover pranks, but you can’t think of any as its powerful vibrations run through your body and center on your groin.

It’s a good two or three minutes before she realizes she’s not alone anymore and she lets the motor die out. “Hi guys,” she greets with a small, easy smile. You’ve never thought of septum piercings as making a person seem cute, but there’s no other word for her face that you can think of with your fucking neanderthal vocabulary and nonexistent wit. “Thanks for warning me we were having a guest, Gav.”

“Yeah, well, you bloody told me I could have people over, didn’t you? This is Michael.” You forget to be annoyed by the weird way Gavin says your name because she’s looking you up and down and her smile is becoming a smirk and holy shit, she’s totally checking you out. Why, you have no idea, but you’re not about to question it.

“Hey Michael. I’m Griffon.” She puts down the chainsaw and takes off her safety glasses before walking over and offering you a hand. You quickly extend yours and it’s weird how unbothered you are by the way you skin tingles at the touch of her long, calloused fingers.

It’s the first moment you realize that Griffon is at once the nicest person you’ve met in Austin and the last you’d ever want to cross. You don’t know which of those facts is more attractive.

_My name’s Michael Jones,_ you want to tell her. _I moved here three months ago from New Jersey because my mom can’t pick one fucking job. I’m 18 years old with a little rounding and completely legal in the state of Texas: a state I couldn’t fucking stand until five minutes ago, in fact. I’m fat and stupid and I have a tiny dick and I make videos on the internet where I look like an asshole for the amusement of a few thousand strangers jacking off in their parents’ basement but I still have the nerve to have a crush on a hot artist I just met who’s also kind of my friend’s mom._

You thankfully settle on, “Uh, what are you making, Griffon?”

Gavin rolls his eyes and squawks something like, “Now you’ve done it!” and makes a hasty escape indoors to retrieve some “snacks and bevs.” Griffon’s face lights up at the question and gives you the sensation of your chest suddenly being constricted.She puts a hand on your shoulder to guide you to a nearby picnic table and show you an array of sketches that she details with enthusiastic gestures and gentle words and a smile that’s brighter than any you could have dreamed of back in New Jersey. You wonder how many limbs she would cut off you if you tried to kiss her.

In the end you decide the risk is too great and just listen to her explain her new project, but it’s a narrow thing.

Maybe next time.


End file.
